


A Long Road Back

by clover71



Category: Toy Story 3 (2010), Toy Story Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clover71/pseuds/clover71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy Davis decides to go home for the holidays after being away for two years.  When he gets stranded in the middle of a snowstorm, the last person he expects to come to his rescue is Sid and Andy inevitably revisits the not-too-distant past he thought he's completely over with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Road Back

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is written for Christmasbang 2011 challenge at LiveJournal.  
> \- The title of the story comes from a line from the first verse of the song 'I'll Be Home for Christmas' sung by Josh Groban.  
> \- A million thanks to my absolutely awesome beta, aohatsu, who helped shape this story and to my friend radcliffe_bass for being my third and fourth sets of eyes (we both wear glasses) who checked for typos.  
> \- The epilogue was written the night before I was due to post this story because I was restless so that part had not been beta'ed.
> 
> * * *
> 
> * * *

It's horribly late and the perpetual downpour of fine ice crystals buries any chance of making it home soon. It's all white and gray and blurry. Andy can't see a damn thing. He sucks in a long, frustrated breath before trapping the key in the ignition between his fingers. _Please, please, please,_ he prays silently and turns it with a jerk of his wrist.

The car chugs for half a second, coughing as if it were alive and suffering from a severe case of pneumonia. A series of weird clattering noises follow before the engine finally comes to life, roaring like a wild beast.

"C'mon, baby. That's it, that's it," he mutters encouragingly, pressing his foot on the gas pedal with great care. Anxiety floods his chest the moment the vehicle moves. The motor rattles and vibrates, then something snaps and the sound of the engine dies off gradually before the car completely shuts down.

"Fuck!" He slams his head hard against the backrest. Being stranded in the middle of a deserted road isn't how he imagined spending Christmas.

Why did he even think about driving home in this weather? He should've stayed in his dorm like his mom had suggested. Flights have been cancelled. That should have been a warning. But the stubborn determination burning inside him made him hop in his car and drive across three states.

He has to make it home. He just has to.

A thin layer of snow starts to gather on the windshield, rendering the wipers almost useless. His car's completely fucked up and he resigns himself to the fact that it's pointless to try and get it running. To make the situation even more exasperating, the signal in the area is dead so his phone is worthless. There's no way to call his mom and let her know that he's stuck in the middle of God knows where.

Stopping for dinner had probably been the best decision he had made so far. At least, there's only a slim chance that he'll starve to death now. But staying here won't save him from a grueling demise, starvation or not.

With the lack of other options, Andy climbs out of the car and begins the vagabond trek, hoping that he'll find a gasoline station or some sign of civilization somewhere. The curtain of white flakes spiraling down ceaselessly challenges his range of vision and the thick, hooded coat that hugs his body does nothing to alleviate the chill. Andy adjusts his scarf over his mouth and his nose to keep the harsh wind off his face. He shoves his gloved hands into his pockets in fear that he might end up having frostbites.

His legs are struggling to drag him away from his car when he hears something – like the sound of a vehicle approaching – and he twists around despite his frozen limbs to see a pair of headlights in the distance.

 _Oh please, please, please, let it be a car,_ he thinks, but then paranoia suddenly seizes his rational thoughts. What if the driver turns out to be a serial killer? Or… or a psychopath?

Dread surges through Andy's bones like acid, melting his remaining anticipation for a miraculous rescue. His feet move on impulse, carrying him further down the road only to realize his unfortunate predicament that he has nowhere to hide. He doesn't make it too far when the light behind him gets closer, the beam spilling all over the road.

Soon enough, a shadow falls over him and a large trailer truck (without a trailer attached) drives by slowly, easing onto the shoulder. It stops a few feet ahead. Andy's anchored to the ground, unable to _fucking_ move. He doesn't know what he should do at this point.

When the driver’s side door swings open, Andy swallows his fear and clings to the last threads of optimism he has left.

"Are you fucking trying to kill y'self or somethin'? Get in here before you freeze to death," a man's voice yells and Andy hesitates for a split second before he creeps slowly toward the truck. "Where are you headed?"

"Tri-County," Andy says and narrows his eyes to get a good look at the driver but it's too _damn_ hard to see with the driver's beanie pulled low. "My car broke down and I—"

"Yeah, yeah. Likely story." The driver slides down from the cab then he waves a hand, gesturing for Andy to climb up. "Hop inside."

Andy weighs his options. He can either die of hypothermia here where wild animals can later feed on his carcass or be attacked by this unidentified man but still have a chance to fight for his life. The latter sounds more appealing. Besides, the driver may sound rude and gruff but Andy doesn't get any threatening vibe from the stranger. He walks stiffly the rest of the way and struggles to crawl aboard the large transport.

"Lemme just back up and see what I can do about your car," the driver says, climbing after Andy. "I live near Tri-County, I can take you as far as the edge of the city and maybe you can—"

The sudden pause triggers Andy's pessimism. He can feel the weight of the driver's stare. _Shit!_ Panic rises in him in tumultuous waves and he waits for the driver to throttle him but he's taken aback when the driver says, "Andy? "

Andy's eyes snap toward the driver's face and his heart drops. "Sid?"

Suddenly, Andy's world turns upside down and the fragile glass box that holds the memories he had painstakingly buried shatters.

 

=0=

 

A generic pop tune keeps playing in Andy's head, desperate to fill the void caused by the long, quiet drive. The sharp hiss of the radio is nearly driving Andy out of his mind. His hand flies immediately to the handle above the door when the truck slides a bit toward the center of the road, eyes snapping over to the rearview mirror to make sure his car is still being towed behind them.

The white flakes pouring down from the sky have gotten thicker and it's a miracle Sid can still see through it.

"My house isn't too far ahead," Sid says so low that it's almost inaudible and Andy's not sure if Sid's talking to him or if he's just thinking out loud. "The storm is getting worse. I'm uh… I'm afraid you'll have to stay over at my place and wait it out."

"Don't you live with someone?" What Andy means is Sid might need to ask someone else if Andy can crash for the night. But the smirk that twists on Sid's lips implies that he thinks Andy may be fishing for information

"Nah, I live alone," falls casually from Sid's lips.

"Okay." Andy is so _damn_ exhausted that he doesn't have the spare energy to refuse Sid's hospitality. He keeps his eyes out the window, doing his damnedest not to glance back at Sid and risk having the floodgate of old memories burst open. The last thing he needs right now is a reminder of how his heart was once ripped apart and stomped on, present company included.

His resistance to travel down memory lane doesn't last. Andy is soon flooded with images in his head and he remembers how his life once revolved around Sid, how he placed his heart on Sid's palm and how he rode the pleasures of their ambiguous relationship with reckless abandon.

Andy jerks out of his contemplation when the truck bounces slightly. They're getting off the highway into a road with small mounds of snow spilling over the asphalt. Bungalows line both sides of the street. Tiny colorful lights glow faintly behind the thick gust of wind and white crystals and the scene makes Andy feel like he's looking at them through a View-Master.

Soon, they turn into a dirt path (or Andy thinks it used to be a dirt path but now it's covered with a thick white layer) that leads to a small clearing where Sid maneuvers the truck effortlessly

"This is as far as this baby goes," Sid says when the vehicle stops and a sound of air being released thrums around them. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way. It's not that far."

Andy follows Sid's lead and climbs down through the passenger's side door. His legs lead him straight to his car and he's relieved to see that the old hatchback is still in one piece. Thinking that he needs a change of clothes, he grabs his duffle bag from the backseat and also takes his laptop case, not wanting to risk losing it.

"We'll come back for this junk," Sid waves an arm over his car, "when the weather eases out in the morning."

"My car is not junk," Andy says defensively. He forcefully slings his bag over his shoulder and slams the door shut.

"Whatever you say, man. C'mon, my balls are about to freeze out here."

Thoughts of Sid's balls dances in his head and he stomps on it mentally, not wanting to imagine the things he can do to keep Sid's balls from freezing.

 _Damn! This is going to be a long night._

 

=0=

 

Sid's house is small but cozy and surprisingly neat with only one bedroom, a bathroom in the same hallway and a living room that connects to the kitchen. A small round table surrounded by four chairs stands in the middle.

Andy peels off his coat and in a desperate attempt to start a conversation, he asks, "How long have you lived here?" His gaze falls on Sid's body, unable to stop from watching how Sid's arms flex while he shrugs out of his parka. Sid's taller and broader than Andy remembers.

"More than a year," Sid says, dropping his jacket on the couch. "This is my grandfather's. He prefers to stay near the ocean so he left this place to me before he moved to California. At least there's one person in my dysfunctional family who gives a damn about me." He takes his gloves off and tosses them over to the kitchen table. "Want some coffee?"

"Yes, please," Andy mutters half-heartedly, his eyes sliding over to Sid briefly before surveying Sid's dwelling, mumbling about the absence of Christmas decorations. He hangs his coat on the backrest of a wooden chair and watches Sid putter around the kitchen.

Sid turns the coffee maker on and then combs his shaggy dark brown hair with his fingers, causing the ends to curl away from the back of his neck. He looks over his shoulder and asks, "Cream and sugar as usual?" His hazel eyes are soft and tantalizing enough to melt the ice around Andy's heart.

Andy responds with something inane while staring into Sid's eyes. The dark ring around the hazel orbs makes them look so mysterious, like they hide a thousand secrets. He finds himself inevitably drawn to Sid and he knows deep inside that he should be pressing the panic button because… wasn't he supposed to be over Sid Phillips?

Lost in his thoughts, Andy doesn't realize Sid is offering him a mug filled with coffee until Sid says, "Dude," and their fingers brush when Andy takes it. The momentary skin-to-skin contact sends tingles shooting up Andy's arms.

"Do you have some phone I can use?" he asks, hoping he can find a way to escape Sid even just for a while. "My uh… my cell phone signal's out and I need to call my mom."

"Sorry. I only have my cell phone and it's out, too." Sid takes a sip of his coffee then makes a face like his tongue just got burned. "So." He sinks on a chair, resting his mug on the table. "You're on your way home to spend Christmas with the fam?"

Thinking that, _crap,_ he has no choice but to endure the effects of Sid's presence, Andy settles on the seat across him. "Y-yeah. You?"

The laughter that breaks out of Sid sounds derisive. "Nah," he says, leaning back on the chair, arms curved behind his head. "I haven't spoken to my parents since they shunned me when they found out I'm gay."

Andy's eyes slide down to Sid's chest; transfixed on the way Sid's tight shirt stretches over his pectoral muscles. "But it's been more than two years," falls from his lips lamely and he wishes there was some way he could swallow back the words.

"Yeah, well," Sid says and in his haste to get to his feet, the chair's legs scrape piercingly against the wooden floor, causing goose bumps to rise along Andy's nape, "that's the sad story of my life. I'll uh… go fix the bed. You can stay in my room; I'll sleep on the couch."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to impose." Andy's about to rise but the penetrating glare Sid gives him is enough to keep him glued to his seat.

"Dude. I invited you to stay and I offered you my room so you're not imposing."

Sid leaves before Andy can utter another word.

 

=0=

 

The wind whips violently outside, making the walls and the roof groan in protest. Andy imagines he's in some horror flick and a shadowy figure holding an axe will soon appear at the window. Instead, he hears what sounds like pre-recorded laughter used in sitcoms so he climbs out of bed to investigate.

The smell of burnt wood reaches Andy's nose the moment he steps out of Sid's bedroom. Faint smoke lingers in the fireplace. He finds Sid on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table, a rerun of _Friends_ flashing across the television screen.

Sid gazes up at him with droopy eyes and asks, "Can't sleep either?" The vivid glow from the television dances on the surface of his face.

"Yeah." Andy can't, for the life of him, believe he's standing in Sid's living room, feeling like he's back in middle school and figuring out why he finds Sid so attractive. To hide the nervous stance he's pretty sure is obvious, he attempts to make a joke, and says, "I have this silly paranoia that the wind's gonna blow this house away."

"Don't worry," Sid says with a languid chuckle that tickles every bone in Andy's body, "this house has seen worse." He slides toward one end of the couch and pats the space beside him in silent invitation. As soon as Andy's butt sinks on the cushion, Sid drops a quilt on his lap. "I just turned on the heater. It'll take some time for the room to warm up."

"Thanks." Andy finds it hard to ignore the heat permeating off of Sid and he can't help but yearn to feel Sid's body against his. Pushing the thoughts away, Andy unfolds the quilt and drapes it over him, then watches the scene playing on the screen and sniggers when Joey bursts through the door dressed as Superman. The comical expression on Joey's face when he sees Chandler in a Santa costume and Ross looking like a giant armadillo makes Andy laugh a bit louder.

"So what brings you back home after two years?" Sid says after a while. "I heard you haven't gone back since you packed up and left for college, not even once."

The remark takes Andy by surprise and he raises an eyebrow, eyes slanting over to Sid. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Phillips?"

Sid snorts defensively. "Don't flatter yourself, Davis." His gaze shifts to Andy. "Are you forgetting that I used to collect garbage around your neighborhood? I hear things, you know. Mrs. Zurich asking your mom how you are and when will you be coming back for a visit or Molly telling that dude kid wearing glasses who lives across the street that she and your mom will be driving over to Virginia to spend Christmas with you last year."

"For a moment I thought you were spying on me," Andy says in a playful tone and he doesn't even resist the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Sid's eyes slides down to Andy's lips then flips back up to meet Andy's gaze. "Shit," he mutters under his breath then springs off the couch. "I'm gonna go get some beer. You want some?"

"Sure."

The loss of Sid's proximity makes breathing easier for Andy so he takes advantage, gulps a lungful of air, and releases it slowly before composing himself as Sid returns with two bottles of Corona.

"Is this some kind of a marathon?" Andy asks when a new episode of the show starts.

"It's DVD. It was on sale so I bought it." Sid meets Andy's eyes when he adds, "Yes, Davis. I bought it. I didn't steal everything I own."

The characters' voices float from the television – clear and crisp despite the low volume – but eventually turn gibberish by the time Andy notices that his bottle's almost empty. The show's theme music undulates from the T.V. speakers, lulling him to a point where he can barely keep his eyes open.

 

=0=

 

Andy wakes up to the weight pinning down half of his body, his eyes springing open when he catches a whiff of musk mixed with citrus and something else he can't name. It takes half a second for him to realize that it's the scent of Sid's hair, his head resting limply on Andy's shoulder.

The morning news is flashing on the television screen. Andy's eyes dart around the room in search of a clock and he finds one hanging on the wall behind him. It's almost six. He shifts his gaze back to the T.V. when he hears the anchorwoman start reporting about the weather while a video showing roads barely visible underneath thick layers of snow plays in the background.

The anchorwoman says that the storm's not expected to ease until late in the afternoon, quickly adding that _"the weather bureau has advised that everyone should stay indoors as much as possible…."_

 _Great. Just great._

All Andy can see outside is a blur of white. Gusty wind blows past, making the windows rattle and that's when Sid stirs. Andy's not sure if he should pretend to be asleep or—

Sid bolts upright, eyes snapping over to Andy. "Mornin'," he mumbles, voice scratchy and still thick with sleep. "Timezit?"

"Six." Andy doesn't know what possesses him to add, "You're heavier than I remember," but it brings out a naughty smirk across Sid's lips.

"Wanna know what else is heavier?" Sid waggles his eyebrows and tries to climb on Andy's lap but Andy laughs and pushes him aside.

"Sid!" Andy slaps Sid playfully on his shoulder and gets off the couch, the sudden weight forced on his legs making him wobble a bit. "I'll go make breakfast. News says the storm isn't going away 'til later so I guess I'm stuck here. Might as well make myself useful."

"Sure hon," Sid says in jest and Andy can't help but roll his eyes. "There are eggs in the fridge. I know you make mean omelets."

Andy has his head buried inside the fridge when he hears Sid say, "Oh! At least my phone's working," and he bolts upright, hitting his head in the process.

"It is?" he asks, rubbing the sore spot and sees Sid nod in response, thumbs already skipping over his phone's keypad. "I gotta call my mom." Andy rushes to Sid's bedroom to retrieve his phone and dials his mom's number right away. His mom starts blabbering when she hears his voice, asking him if he's fine, if he's safe, where he stayed for the night. He has to stop her to let her know he's fine and tells her about the car, about getting stranded and about Sid. Then he promises to call when he's on his way home.

When Andy returns to the living room, he sees Sid still preoccupied with his phone and decides to tease. "Who are you texting? Your boyfriend?"

Sid's mouth slants into a lopsided grin. "Don't have any. I have fuck buddies though. Texting Scott right now. I need to get laid."

The words sting somehow and Andy feels like his heart is being crushed. He struggles to look nonchalant and says, "Okay. I'll go make breakfast," hoping that his voice doesn't betray his feelings.

"How 'bout you? You have a boyfriend?" Sid calls out.

The proverbial light bulb in Andy's head flickers on and he thinks, _Ha! Pay back time._ "Yeah. James is awesome," he lies. His roommate is _so_ going to kill him. "That reminds me. I gotta call him after breakfast. He's probably worried by now." If he were Pinocchio, his nose would've pierced through the wall already.

 

=0=

 

It's a little after lunch when Scott arrives and Sid introduces him to Andy. Something twists sharply somewhere between Andy's gut and chest when he sees Sid's arm thrown around Scott's shoulder and he doesn't want to give it a name but he'll be the world's greatest liar to deny that it's jealousy.

Andy is startled out of his acrimonious thoughts when his phone rings. He quickly digs into his pocket and when he sees James' name on the screen, he thanks his lucky stars for the perfect timing.

"Hey James," he says a bit too enthusiastically, half aware of Sid rummaging inside the fridge and mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

"What up, Davis?" James' languid tone fills Andy's ear. "Did you make it home safe? I hear there's a snow storm in your area."

"Nah. I'm not home yet. Crashing at a friend's place." Andy strides toward the living room, keeping his voice loud enough for Sid and Scott to hear. He can feel Sid's gaze burning a hole in the back of his head.

"Bummer. Well, that's the joy of living in Florida. I don't have to worry about snow," James says and Andy knows he has to say something totally off in return if he wants Sid to believe that he's talking to his boyfriend.

"Yeah, I miss you, too." Andy tries not to wince and hopes James will play along. The text message Andy sent almost an hour ago wasn't thorough enough to explain why he was asking James to call.

Andy's not surprised when James says, "What the fuck, dude? What are you into? Are you drunk or something?"

The urge to laugh now bubbles inside Andy and he swallows it. "I can't do phone sex right now. I'm not alone."

James snorts like a strangled pig and struggles to say, "Oh, I get it. Is your ex around by any chance?" between the disgusting sounds he's making.

Andy's glad James isn't dense or stupid. He tries to lower the pitch of his voice and says, "Yeah. I'll call you as soon as I get home," in an almost sultry way. Almost.

"Whatever, dude. Good luck with the ex. Listen, I gotta run. My mom's yelling my full name now."

The busy tone creeps into Andy's ear but he still says, "Okay, love you too," for good measure. He pivots around just in time to see Sid and Scott slipping into Sid's room.

"You don't mind if we use my room for a while, do you?" Sid says, already pushing Scott inside.

"'Course not. It's not my room, why the f—" Andy bites back the curse, not wanting to give Sid an idea that this is pissing him off. "Why would I mind?"

"Later."

The door shuts, leaving Andy alone in the depressingly cold living room.

With the lack of things to do, he drops listlessly on the couch and turns the T.V. on hoping to find something good that will lift his spirits up. But he only sees another weather report stating the obvious and Andy doesn't need another reminder that his chances of getting home soon are slim.

Gut-wrenching sounds float from Sid's bedroom and images of what could probably be happening inside start playing in Andy's head. A sharp ache claws at Andy's chest. His hands clench into fists, digging into the couch's cushion, when he hears Sid grunting and moaning and is appalled when he realizes that he can tell it's Sid.

 _Fuck!_ He jumps on his feet, grabs his coat and scarf from the hook near the front door and heads straight outside. The wind blows roughly against his face. Andy wraps his scarf around his neck, slips his coat on and tugs the gloves out of the pocket.

An old navy blue pickup truck sits outside the house and Andy presumes it belongs to Scott. Sid's house is just a little off the road. There's a narrow driveway that stretches from the house all the way to the paved street but Andy doesn't remember taking that route last night. They may have gone through a different path only because Sid had to park his truck in a clearing. There is obviously no space for it to fit anywhere.

A thick blanket of snow spreads unevenly over the ground and Andy couldn't see a proper pathway anymore. He trudges blindly across the landscape and finally sees the truck a few feet ahead. When he reaches the clearing, he quickly checks his car, glad to see that it's still chained behind the large truck, rear wheels nearly buried in the snow.

 _Shovel._ He needs a shovel. Actually, he just needs to do something to keep his mind off Sid and what he could be doing with Scott right now. _Why should I care?_

Andy remembers seeing something that looks like a tool shed beside Sid's house so he heads back, quickly finds exactly what he needs, and it doesn't take long before he's back with his car, shoveling ice away from the rear end.

That's how Sid finds him. Sid starts spitting curses, yelling, "Get your ass back in the house, Davis!" and grabs Andy's wrist when Andy doesn't stop digging. He pries the shovel of out Andy's hands and drags him back to the house.

Scott's sitting on the couch, fully dressed, with an annoying smirk splitting his face.

"Do you have some kind of a death wish or something?" Sid spits out, loosening his grasp on Andy's arm but not exactly letting go.

"You know what? I think I'll just hitch a ride home." Andy doesn't know what the hell has gotten into him. All he knows is he has to leave before he loses his sanity, so he heads over to Sid's bedroom to grab his bag and laptop case then ambles through the living room, saying, "Thanks for letting me stay," and drags his sorry ass outside without a single plan in mind.

"You're a nut case, Davis! Get back in here," Sid hollers after him, voice mingling with the whistling of the wind. Andy's not surprised to feel the grip on his arm and he can smell the faint breath of beer tainting Sid's breath when he puffs on Andy's face. "Andy, what the hell?"

Tired of this unscrupulous charade, Andy mutters, "I just… I mean I… I thought I was over you." He yanks his arm not-too-gently out of Sid's hold. "I guess I'm not."

Sid grabs Andy by the shoulder before he can walk away. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Andy slips out of Sid's grasp and almost dashes toward the driveway but Sid _fucking_ tackles him from behind. He falls face first to the ground, his bag and laptop landing on the soft mound of ice. He flips on his back on impulse and tries to push Sid off him but Sid pins him down.

"Let go of me, asshole." The more Andy struggles, the harder Sid presses him on the ground. "Why don't you just go back inside and fuck Scott and leave me alone."

Sid laughs, the vibration pulsating through Andy's bones. "I wasn't fucking Scott, stupid," he says, his spit spraying all over Andy's face when he punctuated the last word. "Why? Were you jealous?"

Andy just stares up at Sid incredulously. Sid must sense Andy’s momentary weakness when he doesn't have his guard up and takes advantage by smashing his mouth against Andy's, rendering Andy powerless and shocked and—

With the little strength he has left, Andy pushes Sid just enough for Sid to pull back. "What the fuck?" he snaps, turning his head so Sid won't be able to kiss him again. "Get off me, you ass!"

There's a hint of resoluteness in Sid's tone when he says, "You're not leaving," and Andy knows it means there's no room for argument. "You're staying here 'til the storm eases up then I'll drive you to your mom's."

Menacing laughter resonates from somewhere above them and Andy lifts his eyes to see Scott looking down at them with a huge grin painted on his face. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."

"Thanks for coming over, man." Sid pushes up, bringing Andy with him until they're both on their feet. "Tell the boss I'll come by later to do that report shit."

Scott waves his hand. "Nah, don't bother. I'm sure the boss understands. And it's Christmas Eve. The boss isn't exactly Scrooge, ya know. He'll probably close up early to be with his family."

"Guess I'll see you in two days then," Sid says. "That is if you don't head out early."

As soon as Scott leaves and heads over to the clearing, Sid bends to pick up Andy's things then grabs Andy's arm and hauls him inside, saying, "We need to talk."

 

=0=

 

The tension between Sid and Andy is so thick that a knife could slice through it, cliché as it may sound. Sid's pacing around the living room and Andy is on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest like some stubborn child whose being told he's grounded for the rest of his life.

"Look, it's true," Sid says as if he hasn't stopped talking five minutes ago, his hand rubbing furiously at the back of his neck. "Scott and I weren't doing anything. I was just messing with you and Scott agreed to play along."

"And why the fuck should I care?" Andy glares at Sid but Sid only laughs in return, probably thinking that Andy looks ridiculous.

"Nice try, Andy." Sid settles on the coffee table facing Andy with a look of determination framing his handsome face. "Do I need to remind you that you were the one spilling your heart out earlier, saying you're not over me?"

"I didn't mean a word. I don't even know what came over me." The lie tastes bitter on Andy's tongue and he has to tear his eyes away from Sid because he's afraid Sid might see through his facade.

"Bullshit," Sid spits. "Wanna try something else that I might be able to believe?"

Andy heaves a lungful of air and holds it in until his chest stings, thinking, _I can do this._ He's not entirely sure why dealing with Sid feels like he's being held at gunpoint. "Why are we doing this, Sid? Why are we even talking about this?"

Sid slides off the coffee table and kneels before Andy, says, "Because I wanna know the truth," and plants his hands on either side of Andy's hips, keeping Andy caged between his arms.

Andy's mouth goes dry, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He stammers, "I… I uh…" like a retard at first. It takes a minute before he can gather his thoughts and he's vomiting the truth, "I was jealous, okay?"

"Why do you think I asked Scott to pretend we were having sex?" The skin between Sid's eyebrows creases as he frowns. "I was fucking pissed when I heard you talking to your boyfriend."

"Um…" The truth feels heavy on Andy's tongue but he's tired of all these lies. So he strips his pretentious mask off and tells Sid about James.

There's a spark in Sid's eyes and it stays there even as he reaches out to brush a lock of hair away from Andy's forehead. "I guess I started it. I just work with Scott. He's actually straight as an arrow and married," he explains then relays the entire story about asking Scott to bring his pick-up truck over so he could also take the trailer truck back to the yard.

"That's bull," Andy says. "You honestly expect me to bel—"

The rest of Andy's words fade into Sid's mouth and Andy's jaw tenses up at the initial contact before he relaxes and finds himself sighing into the kiss. His hands move on their own accord, crawling over Sid's shoulders and around Sid's head, fingers tangling in Sid's hair. Then rationality catches up with him so he rips his lips off Sid's.

"What the fuck are we doing, Sid. I mean…" Andy lurches off of the couch and starts pacing around the room. "Shit! We can't do this. We can't just pick up from where we left off. We don't even have anything left to pick up from."

Infuriation replaces the fondness that reflects on Sid's eyes. "And whose fault is that? You left me, Andy. You left without even saying goodbye."

"I didn't leave you, you pushed me away!" The emotions thrumming through Andy's body makes him tremble and _shit_ , this is one of the many reasons why he never wanted to come home. He’d been so afraid to find out that Sid still had this control over him. "Damn it, Sid! I wanted to be there for you when you were having trouble with your family. But you turned to your druggie friends instead. You fucking pushed me away." Andy drops his gaze on the floor and lets his shoulders sag, feeling like he’s just lost a battle. "I thought you didn't want me anymore. So I stopped trying."

Sid says, "I guess I do deserve the most fucked-up life award," so softly that it's barely audible, but Andy hears him nonetheless.

Andy's hands curl into fists and he's fighting the temptation to snap back. He knows Sid’s been through a lot of shit in his life – from his misguided childhood to his troubled puberty. Sid used to say that he would have lost his way if Andy hadn't come along to steer him into a less winding path.

"It's been two years and a half, Sid. We should have moved on with our lives."

"Yeah?" Sid rises from the floor and there's something challenging with the way he meets Andy's gaze. "Why haven't we?"

 

=0=

 

The drive to Andy's mom’s house is relatively quiet. The radio is playing a rock song at a considerable volume and Sid is bopping his head and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat.

Andy keeps his eyes out the window, occasionally glancing back to check if his car is still behind them.

When they reach the suburban area of Tri-County, Andy notices that most of the streets have been shoveled and salted. They drive through the old neighborhood where Andy practically grew up, past Sid's house and Andy notices that Sid's trying too hard to keep his eyes on the road.

"Have you tried to talk to them?" slips out of Andy's mouth without him thinking twice about it. He glances at Sid, sees the way Sid's jaw tightens, eyes unblinking as he shakes his head stiffly. "Not even once?"

"My dad made it clear he doesn't want to see me ever again," Sid says monotonously.

"What about your mom?"

Sid's face softens, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "Mom does what dad says."

Andy knows he should shut up, that he shouldn't pry further but the filter between his brain and his mouth isn't functioning. "Maybe if you try, she'll—"

"Look, Davis," Sid's chest rises when he takes in a sharp breath and he seems to take his time releasing the air before saying, "can we not talk about it right now?"

A sense of discomfort hovers above them until they reach Elm Street and Andy climbs out of the vehicle without a word as soon as they park along the curb. His mom rushes out to meet them and offers to make some coffee for Sid then later invites Sid to stay for dinner.

Andy's a little perplexed to see his mom acting as if she's ecstatic to have Sid around. He ignores the nagging feeling that there's something his mom hasn't told him and brings his bags up to his room as a distraction, declining Sid's offer to help. On his way back to the kitchen, he hears his mom say, "How long have you been working for the trucking company?"

"Seven months," comes Sid's voice. "It pays better than my job as a garbage collector. Plus I get to travel across states."

When his mom says, "No wonder I haven't seen you around these past few months," Andy stops dead in his tracks. He thinks of retreating but his mom sees him before he can take a step back. "Oh, there you are, honey. You want some coffee?"

"Sure, Mom."

Andy doesn't know why he has this stupid goal of avoiding Sid but he pretends to be preoccupied with helping his mom cook dinner just to achieve it. He's utterly relieved when Molly takes charge in entertaining Sid for the rest of the evening.

His mom brings out the champagne after dinner. When she refuses to give Andy a glass, Andy whines and says, "Mom, I'm turning twenty in a few months."

"That's still not the legal drinking age."

"But it's Christmas, Mom," Andy reasons and she finally lets him have a little. Molly can't have any, of course, so she heads straight to her bedroom, probably to log into her Facebook account so she can gossip with her friends.

After a little while, Sid says, "I need to get going before the snow decides to fall again," and Andy's chest weighs heavy with disappointment. Andy wishes Sid could stay longer but his tongue feels so thick he can't even bid Sid good night, just watches his mom walk Sid to the door and pulls a smile on his lips when Sid thanks them for the dinner.

"Let us know if you made it home safe," Andy's mom says, holding the door open for Sid. "You know Andy's number, right?"

Sid eyes Andy and he parts his lips as if to say something but Andy blurts out, "I haven't changed my number. Unless you've deleted it from your phone."

It's not until Andy sees a flash of annoyance on Sid's face that he realizes he might have sounded sarcastic, but Sid's expression changes to something more genial when he says, "No, I uh—I still have it. And I haven't changed my number either."

Andy collapses on the couch as soon as he hears Sid's pick-up leave the curb. His mom slides beside him, and in her usual motherly tone she asks, "Wanna talk about it?"

He lays his head on his mom's shoulder, hoping to find some comfort. His mom's embrace is like a trigger that has him rambling in a few minutes, telling her about the conversation he and Sid had, not really expecting her to give some advice, but she ends up offering a handful – most of them in favor of giving Sid a second chance.

Andy tilts his head and lifts an eyebrow, searching his mom's face suspiciously. "Weren't you the one who told me I'm better off without him?"

"Oh Andy." She holds him tighter and sighs as if she's about to confess a mortal sin. "After you left for college, I often saw Sid lurking around the neighborhood, usually around the holidays or during school breaks. I figured he was probably waiting to see if you were coming home, so I called him in one time and we talked."

Andy's head is reeling by the time his mom takes his hand. "Honey. Sid went over to your college to see you several times over the last two years. He said he couldn't say what he had to over the phone. But then he said you seemed happier so he didn't bother to approach you. He was afraid you would turn him down." Andy's chest tightens, depriving him of oxygen and the room seems to spin and spin around him. "He loves you, Andy. He may have a hard time saying what he feels, but I know love when I see it."

They talk for the rest of the hour until Andy's phone buzzes and his heart flutters when he sees the text message. "It's Sid," he tells his mom. "He made it home and he says thank you again for the dinner."

"Well, let's call it a night then." His mom presses a kiss on his temple before getting up. "Good night, Andy."

Andy stares at his phone, contemplating whether to send a response. He thinks, _what the heck,_ and types _'good night, Sid. Merry Christmas'_ then his thumb hovers over the 'send' key. "Damn it," he hisses under his breath and ends up pressing 'delete' instead.

 

=0=

 

Snow doesn't fall the next day, _thank goodness_ , but the road leading to Sid's place is a bit slippery. Fortunately, his mom's car is made for this kind of weather.

Andy's relieved to see Sid's pick-up truck sitting in front of the house and he parks the car beside it. He takes a couple of minutes to collect his thoughts before sliding out of the driver's seat.

There's something different in the air – a sense of warmth despite the cold. It's not until he steps into the small porch when he feels that Christmas _sy_ ambiance. He realizes why the moment he sees the large wreath hanging prominently on the door.

Before Andy can knock, the door swings open and Sid says, "Andy," breathlessly, his expression morphing from confused to elated. He smells like cinnamon and Andy suddenly wants to sniff him all over.

"Hi Sid." Andy rocks on the balls of his feet like some nervous teenage girl who's waiting to be asked to the dance. He stuffs his gloved hands in his coat pockets to keep from reaching out and tug Sid closer.

"C'mon in." Sid steps aside to let Andy through. A small gasp escapes Andy's lips when his eyes land on the small Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room. "I found it in the basement, probably grandpa's," Sid says, gesturing over to the tree. "It's artificial, but it's better than nothing. What do you think?"

"It's…" There are no words enough to describe the feelings that are swirling in Andy's chest. He inspects the decoration in minute details. The trimmings are nothing like the traditional ones seen on fancy Christmas trees. They're crafted out of colored papers and cardboard and thrown haphazardly over the branches' tips but they add a cheerful quality to the tiny colorful lights that are glistening like distant stars around the cone-shaped crown. "It's beautiful."

Sid murmurs, "Thanks," and offers him some cinnamon biscuits and coffee.

"Sure. Let me help you with the coffee." Andy follows Sid to the kitchen and takes the pot from the counter, ignoring the way his pulse goes haywire at the thought of bringing up one of the reasons why he's there in the first place.

Sid looks at him with a mock-offended look. "Why? Don't you trust me?"

"No silly," Andy says, giggling, and he nudges Sid aside with his hip. "It's not that. I just want to help." He's too preoccupied with preparing the pot that he doesn't notice Sid watching him but he can definitely sense the warmth of Sid's closeness and when he turns, his heart sinks straight to his gut at the intensity of Sid's gaze.

The back of Sid's fingers feel rough against Andy's skin but there's something soothing with how Sid is stroking his cheek and he actually leans into the touch. Then Sid whispers, "Andy," and leans to brush his lips lightly against Andy's as if he's scared that Andy will break if he presses any harder.

When Sid pulls back, his lips are curved, but when Andy says, "We need to talk," the smile fades and a shadow of uncertainty falls over Sid's face. Andy's hand is resting on Sid's chest. He can feel Sid's heart beating rapidly beneath his palm. "I uh…" Andy's having second – even third thoughts about bringing it up but Sid looks like he's about to have an anxiety attack if he doesn't say anything soon. "Mom told me a lot of things, about you going to my college and… and everything. Made me realize how selfish I've been."

Sid shakes his head and takes Andy's cold, clammy hand in his semi-warm, rough ones. "No, Andy. You were right. I did push you away. I was stupid and I'm sorry."

The Sid Phillips Andy remembers never admits to his faults, let alone apologizes, so this leaves Andy speechless. Sid must have misinterpreted Andy's reaction when Andy just stares at him with his lips parted because his mouth descends on Andy's, his tongue aggressively seeking Andy's own.

The kiss deepens and turns fervent, shutting Andy's brain off. The speech he’s rehearsed more than a dozen times before and during the hour-long drive to Sid's place dissolves in fevered thoughts of wanting to be in Sid's bed, naked and losing himself underneath him with Sid's dick plowing into his tight heat. Andy can feel himself growing hard and his jeans suddenly feel incredibly uncomfortable.

They're both nearly breathless by the time they part, their foreheads pressed together and their hot breaths mingling while they both pant like they just ran a mile or fucked for hours.

"Stay for dinner." Sid chokes on the word like the invitation itself is filled with the emotions that have Andy agreeing. They have hours before supper and that’ll give Andy enough time to get his head straight.

They're on the couch and Sid's nursing a bottle of beer in his hand when Andy thinks, _well, here goes nothing_ , and says, "Maybe you should try to pay your mom a visit." His eyes remain on the screen, staring at the James Bond movie running on HBO, so he won't have to see the reaction that may be unfolding on Sid's face right about now.

"Didn’t I tell you to give it a rest?" Sid shifts away from Andy and reaches for the remote to turn the volume up.

"I'm just saying, maybe you should try to talk to your mom. It's been two years anyway—"

"I already said no." Sid brings the bottle to his lips, tosses his head back and downs the rest of the beer.

"I uh… I saw her with Hannah this morning when Molly and I were at Starbucks," Andy mutters and risks a glance over to Sid, not really expecting to see an impassive countenance that makes it difficult to know what Sid is thinking. "They both asked about you Sid. Your mom… I think she wants to see you and maybe if—"

"No." It sounds harsh and steadfast and Sid's face is pinched. This isn't the conversation Andy is aiming for. He hasn't had a chance to tell Sid how his mom practically cried on Andy's shoulder when Andy started talking about Sid. When Andy parts his lips to rebuke, Sid blurts, "Fuck, Davis," and slams the beer bottle on the coffee table. "Quit talking about my parents and stop trying to make my life a little perfect in your eyes."

Andy feels the stab right though his heart. "That's not what I'm trying to do."

"Yeah?" The fire in Sid's eyes flashes threateningly. "Then what exactly are you trying to do?"

"You know what?" Andy leaps up to his feet and fishes the car keys out of his pocket, says, "I don't even know why I'm trying," dejectedly, then storms out of the house.

 

=0=

 

It takes two days for Andy's car to get fixed and in those two days, he can't get Sid off his mind. Sid doesn't call him and he doesn't call Sid either. Molly keeps pestering him, telling him that he looks awfully miserable and that he should just accept the fact that he's not ready to let Sid go. It's not even funny that his thirteen-year-old sister is the one who knocks some sense into him.

He drives up to Sid's place three days after Christmas. When Andy finds Sid's pick-up truck gone, panic boils in the pit of his stomach. _Damn!_ He kicks on the wheel of his car. Sid has probably left to deliver some cargo across states already.

His head snaps up to the sound of the ground crunching and his heart plummets when he sees Sid's truck creeping down the driveway.

Andy doesn't think twice. He throws himself at Sid as soon as Sid steps out of the vehicle and claims Sid's mouth before Sid can even speak. He's relieved when Sid responds to the kiss, dragging the tip of his tongue across the roof of Andy's mouth.

Sid jerks back, his large hands curled around Andy's arms in a viselike grip. "What the fuck are you playing at, Davis? I'm getting tired of your cat and mouse game."

"No, I…" Andy claws at Sid's forearm desperately, afraid that Sid's going to throw him out or something.

"You can't keep coming back and giving me false hope then leave if things don't happen the way you planned, Andy." For a moment, Sid looks pitiful, making him seem a lot younger than twenty-three.

"I came here to apologize, Sid. I was wrong to try and force you to make amends with your mom. You were right. You should do things in your own terms. I…."

Sid's grip loosens, arms twining around Andy's waist. "If you think about leaving, I'm gonna lock you up in my bedroom."

"Next time I try to leave, stop me?"

Andy spends the night at Sid's house. They both tumble inside Sid's bedroom, pawing at each other's clothes.

Sid plants open-mouthed kisses all over Andy's naked body, setting Andy's skin on fire. White lights erupt behind Andy's closed eyelids when Sid takes him into his hot, wet mouth, nearly driving Andy to the edge as Sid traces the veins on the underside of Andy's dick with the tip of his tongue. The feeling of Sid's fingers inside him makes him fall apart and lose control.

"Sid please," Andy begs, burning with the need to feel Sid inside him. When Sid's dick is finally sliding in and out of him, Andy begs for more, begs Sid to go faster, harder.

Andy is the first to reach his climax, spilling his load all over Sid's hand, semen spurting over the sweat-sleek surface of his own belly. He clenches around Sid while Sid's hand continues to pump Andy's erection, milking Andy up to the last drop.

Sid cries out, "Shit!" and thrusts faster, fucking Andy to oblivion. Then his head lolls back, mouth parted as the most erotic sounds escape his lips. His hips continue to snap, slapping against Andy's ass, even as he slumps over Andy, searching Andy's mouth with his own. Then Sid collapses on top of Andy. Andy's palm skims over the curve of Sid's back, enjoying the way he's trapped under Sid's weight.

Later that night, when Andy's head is resting on Sid's shoulder, a finger tracing asymmetrical patterns on Sid's chest, Sid says, "When are you going back to school?"

Andy's fingers still, not expecting Sid to ask about it. "On the second."

He waits for Sid to ask 'what now?' or say something that may rip his heart apart, but instead, Sid asks, "When's your next school break?"

Andy answers, "Spring," like his mind is on autopilot then, "why?"

One of Sid's shoulders move in a half shrug. "Just wanted to make sure our schedule coincides so I'll be home when you are."

"Oh. Okay." Maybe it's the scent of Sid's sweat that's too intoxicating or maybe it's the after-effect of orgasm, but Andy feels lightheaded. A lazy smile takes shape on his lips. He presses his body further against Sid's side and wraps his arm tightly around Sid's middle, determined not to let go. Not this time.

 

=0=

 

EPILOGUE:

Sid drops the sixteen-wheeler off at the yard, signs some papers, tells the boss' secretary, "I'm off for the next two weeks, Tracy. Don't forget," and makes a beeline towards his pick-up truck.

The excitement that's bubbling in his chest makes him want to jump out of his skin. It's only been a month since Thanksgiving when Andy last came home from college but Sid misses him so much that he just wants to gather Andy in his arms and _fucking_ peel his clothes off and do something really, really filthy with him.

The erotic images of Andy dissipate from his exhausted mind when he heard someone yell, "Yo, Phillips!" and he sees Scott waving at him from across the parking lot. "Wanna hit the bar with us?"

"No can do, man. The boyfriend's home for the holidays," Sid yells back, not caring if the people lingering nearby could hear.

Scott shakes his head, a toothy grin stretching across his face. "You've got it bad, dude. Say hi to Andy for me."

"Will do." Sid quickly clambers into his truck before anyone else can stall him and soon pulls out of Ed's Trucking Services. The drive to his place takes a quarter of an hour longer because roads are kind of slippery but as soon as Sid sees Andy's car sitting outside his house, his heart starts doing gymnastics.

The smell of meat sauce greets Sid's nose the moment he steps inside. He hollers, "Honey! I'm home!" and finds Andy bent over a pot in the kitchen.

Andy looks over his shoulder and says, "I'm making spaghetti," as soon as Sid shuts the front door close. The smile that curves on Andy's lips melts every _fucking_ frozen bone in Sid's body.

Sid snakes his arms around Andy's middle and nuzzles him behind his ear. "Sid!" The ripple of giggles that manages to escape Andy is like a warm blanket that wraps around Sid. "Our lunch is gonna end up burnt if you don't stop!"

"Can I eat you for lunch instead?" The innuendo that rolls out of Sid's lips causes Andy's cheek to turn to a dark shade of crimson and Andy squeaks when Sid catches his earlobe between his teeth.

Andy twists in Sid's embrace and plants a quick kiss on Sid's lips. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll have lunch ready soon."

"Okay." Sid doesn't release Andy. Instead, his mouth descends on Andy's, their lips brushing together in a tender, unhurried kiss. They part before things can get rough but Sid's body remains pressed against Andy's, his hands cupping Andy's ass. He feels the rush of emotions rising from Andy's gaze and his heart swells, three words he hasn't said to anyone in his entire life balancing precariously on the tip of his tongue.

Sid doesn't say the words though. He's not, after all, considerably skilled when it comes to enunciating romantic phrases. He makes up for it in simple gestures: palm pressed between Andy's shoulder blades; chaste kiss on Andy's temple; warm hugs; and even filling up his house with Christmas decorations regardless of how much he thinks it's ridiculous. Sid is willing to go out of his way just to see the heartwarming smile on Andy's lips.

They pick up the tree after lunch – a freshly cut Concolor Fir. Not too tall, just enough to fit in Sid's living room. They fill it up with ornaments that he and Andy made during the last week of summer before Andy returned to the university.

When they're done, they snuggle on the sofa and Sid can't help but think that having Andy by his side is what makes Christmas perfect in every way – not the scrumptious meal waiting on the dinner table or the presents underneath the tree or the confetti of snowflakes falling outside relentlessly or the mistletoe hovering directly above them or—

 _Wait. Mistletoe?_

Sid's eyes snap back to the ceiling thinking that maybe he's seeing things but there it is – a mistletoe hanging on a string. Before he can even begin to ponder why it's there, he feels the slightly cold palm against his cheek so his gaze slides back to Andy's face. Sid's breath hitches when he sees the tenderness and affection pooling on Andy's big blue eyes and his heart swells when Andy says, "Merry Christmas, Sid," softly because Sid can hear those three words he meant to say earlier hidden between the lines.

"Merry Christmas, babe," Sid whispers then his mouth descends to meet Andy's lips, hoping that this way he can let Andy know how he truly feels.


End file.
